


The Light and the Dark

by paintstroke



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Bad Ideas, Cameo: Coran, Cameo: Lance, Cameo: Pidge, Cameo: Space Mice, Dark, Feelings, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Torture, Internal Conflict, M/M, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Shame, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Smut, Temptation, cameo: Allura
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-10-26 05:37:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10780662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paintstroke/pseuds/paintstroke
Summary: Keith knew this was a bad idea.No, Keith knew that this was aterribleidea.Keith knew that it would definitely not lead anywhere good.And yet…[Mind Season 2 Spoilers] Background: It had been a rough period for them all. The frantic search for Shiro had more than a few setbacks. A case of mistaken identity introduced Kuro into the castle. When they finally get Shiro, Keith is terrified that they're running out of second chances. But he may have lost his chance to say anything, as Shiro walls himself off away from them all. And through the strife a pair of sharp, luminescent eyes are watching with increasing interest...





	1. Far too familiar (Shiro)

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter warnings: Brief mentions of past captivity
> 
> Rated E for upcoming chapters.
> 
> * * *

A tremor in his body yanks him back into wakefulness. Immediately his mind starts racing. His armour is still on, he can feel the protective shell around his body - in the castle then. No alarm is ripping through the air - ok. His back is still pressed against the metallic base of the bed, the floor cool against his side. He hasn’t been moved. The room is quiet. He’s alone. 

_He’s alone._

And then, only then, Shiro lets himself open his eyes, lets himself start to move, lets himself take that deep, shaking breath he needed. With how strongly the adrenaline has kicked in he won’t be back asleep anytime soon. He also knows instinctively that he hasn’t been asleep too long, the aching tiredness in his bones pleading for another few minutes; his body needing desperately what his mind won’t allow.

But he’s used to that. Insomnia is a familiar companion. 

A week ago, just waking up alone would be enough to banish the terror that clung to him, thicker than the layer of sweat. But in this instance, he looks frantically around the room, confirming what he hadn’t heard - no breathing, no movement. Which meant that no one was looming ready to drag him from the relative safety of his cell… and also...

Kuro was gone. 

Shiro bolts to his feet. _Fuck._

He hits the panel by the door and launches himself into the hallway, flattening himself into the bulkhead as he looks around, the sense that there’s a threat deeply ingrained to fight off right now.

The hallway is empty. 

_Shit._ He’d given himself one task. One task. And he’d failed the first night. He was a light sleeper - he knew that. Everyone knew that, by now. Keeping one eye on Kuro should have been easy. The other Paladins had all been trying to reassure him, tell him that even that wasn’t needed. He should have never listened to them, should have trusted his gut on this.

The empty castle halls seemed menacing, abandoned. Shiro can’t stop his mind, his attention darting from ledges to corners, constantly assessing where he could bolt to, what he could use. 

Because there’s that second layer of emotions, like a thick taste at the back of his tongue. Kuro’s satisfied with something. It’s not just the rapidly cooling sweat that makes Shiro shiver. 

He _really_ hates figuring out what makes Kuro happy.


	2. Conflicted (Keith)

He’d hoped to find Shiro here. For a few seconds after he quietly slipped into the training deck, Keith thought that he had. It had once been a familiar routine for them, after all. When he realized that this was one of the places Shiro went when he couldn’t sleep, he’d started making sure to pass by as part of his own late night circuit.

* * *

_”You still up?”_

_“Couldn’t sleep.” Some version of that would always be on Keith’s lips, and on some nights it might even have been true. Other nights he’d fought against sleep first and Shiro second. Shiro’s answer had always been to beckon him over, with a wave or a smile, happy to square off against a friendly opponent. And if Shiro caught him napping in the lounge room or during a meeting the next day, it was something that neither of them mentioned._

_It was some time before they dropped the rote excuses. Their words became less scripted, less guarded. The late-night exercises became a chance to reconnect with some faint echoes of who they’d been before the the call of the Blue Lion, before Kerberos. Before their lives had been up-ended._

_After Shiro had been taken a second time, passing the empty training hall became viscerally painful to Keith._

* * *

But tonight it’s not Shiro waiting for him. 

When he realized his mistake, disappointment cut heavily through his chest. Keith tried to ignore that. It wasn’t that bad. It wasn’t like those terrible days of searching for signs that Shiro was _somewhere_ within the twisted mirror-creature they had first dragged from Haggar’s claws. They’d found Shiro too, a little later, and even with his limited knowledge of Japanese, Keith had taken a dark pleasure in christening the creature ‘Kuro’. Shiro was with them again, Keith reminded himself. Shiro just wasn’t… here. 

Still, he couldn’t take his eyes off of the mock-battle; Kuro was facing off against the gladiator-bot,and apparently for kicks had programmed in a swoop of drones which circled, spitting lasers at a lazy rate. Kuro was all grace and tensed muscles as he languidly dodged the shots, darting in to land quick blows against the ‘bot. Keith edged backwards slowly, eventually finding a comfortable spot to lean against the curved support structure by the door of the training deck.

Every now and again he could pick out movements that looked like Shiro’s - a feint or a recovery that were so beautifully familiar. The overall style though… it was breathtaking to see Shiro’s form take on this feral power. Kuro had none of Shiro’s reserve - maybe none of the discipline either - and it made him into something wild and free and untamed. 

With a final twist Kuro made a move that would have broken the gladiator’s neck, had it been real. One of the small swooping bots took a final shot before the swarm echoed the major opponent and powered down. Kuro sidestepped the blast easily and retaliated, dealing out justice with a fluid fury. 

Keith winced as Kuro’s metallic fist closed around the drone, shattering it into sharp splinters and exposed circuits. Kuro contemplated the mangled mess briefly, before flinging it to the side. It continued to spark. Behind him, the inanimate gladiator sunk back into the castle floor for repairs. 

“It’s less fun when they don’t bleed…” Kuro remarked, turning to pierce Keith with a look over his shoulder. 

With how hyper-aware Kuro had been, it would have been more eerie if the creature _hadn’t_ known Keith was there. Still, the golden gaze pinned Keith immediately in place. He tried to hide the fact that he swallowed twice, tried to bury that fact in an apathetic shrug of his shoulders. _Whatever._ It was a twisted version of what Shiro might have said, that fighting was better against a thinking opponent. The dark sentiment behind the words was less jarring than the pose Kuro held, though. The way his hip canted out was _definitely_ a far cry from Shiro’s military-trained stances. The easy sensuality was surreal on Shiro’s borrowed form. Surreal – and magnetic. 

When Kuro crooked a finger at him in invitation Keith was _done._

_This is bad,_ he told himself, even as he kept his face blank. _You should just go to bed. Make some excuse,_ the rational side of his mind sounded suspiciously like Shiro. But Keith couldn’t tear his gaze off of Kuro. Even after those golden eyes left him he was tracing the lines of Kuro’s shoulders, the familiar sweep of pale bangs against darker hair. It was just a study of his potential opponent, he told himself. It would help improve his fighting technique. He folded his jacket and left it at the side of the room as Kuro banished the remaining drones to their hiding holes with a swipe of claws over the projected computer screen.

Each step he took towards Kuro seemed to rachet his heartbeat’s tempo to a new level. _Preparation. Fight or flight._ he reminded himself. His body was ready to face this opponent. His mind just needed to catch up. 

“Ooooh….” Kuro purred, pursing his lips as he turned. The surprise was incredibly fake, and it irked Keith. Kuro stepped even closer, definitely inside Keith’s comfort zone. Probably on purpose, if the intensity of his gaze and tilted head were any indication. Kuro’s hand flashed up, warm and electrifying as he cupped the side of Keith’s face. 

Keith jerked away from the surprising touch, looking skeptically at Kuro. “What?” Keith snapped, startled out of having any comebacks. 

Kuro touched his tongue to his upper lip and paused for a moment. “You came,” he gave a delighted grin. “I thought you might leave me all alone here…”

Keith _stared_. 

The silence stretched between them. 

With the luminescence in Kuro’s eyes, there was something in the tilt of his head, in the play of his eyebrows that gave off the impression that he was giving Keith the once-over. 

Keith schooled his expression into indifference. He wouldn’t bite at that lure. “If it’s a fight you want, I’m all yours,” Keith said carefully. Keith allowed a small, dangerous smile to touch his lips before he raised his hands up into a ready stance. 

Kuro wasn’t the only one who would enjoy this. 

<<>>

“Keith!” 

Keith shoved Kuro’s hand away from his neck with an added burst of energy upon hearing his name bellowed by Shiro. 

His dark eyes flashed over to the training bay doors. “What?!” he snarled back, adrenaline fueling his aggression. 

“What are you doing?” Shiro sounded furious. Barely a second later Kuro’s weight was being forcibly dragged off him. 

Keith dug his elbows into the mat, leaning up as he panted, trying to catch his breath. “What do you mean?! We’re sparring?” He looked up at Shiro, incredulous. It was obvious, right?

Shiro held Kuro by the back of his neck. For whatever reason, Kuro looked insufferably smug, but didn’t seem to be resisting. 

Shiro kept staring down at him. Keith dragged the back of his hand over his lip, checking to see if there was blood. His heart thundered, the excitement of the combat fading along with the hope of satisfaction of winning, or even of _losing_ a fair fight.

“I don’t want you to be alone with him.” Shiro finally said. 

Kuro laughed, his wide leer seeming almost manic juxtaposed against Shiro’s restraint. Keith was transfixed by the way it made Shiro’s fingers spasm over the junction of Kuro’s neck and shoulder. Kuro didn’t seem especially concerned. 

Then again, not much seemed to faze Shiro’s druid-born shadow.

Keith set his jaw and stood up, pulling on his jacket again with sharp motions. Shiro’s tone was irritating. They had survived having Kuro on board before Shiro had reappeared. The Paladins knew what they were doing. Keith carefully curled a lip and reminded Shiro, “ _You_ agreed he wasn’t dangerous to us.” 

He could practically watch the struggle play through Shiro’s mind, and felt a thrill of delight, like he had won something precious, when Shiro didn’t have an immediate answer for him.

A part of him knew that this irritation was unwarranted. But, since his return, Shiro had flat out rejected any requests Keith had to talk, to reconnect. And Keith’s limited patience corroded quickly as every last one of his hopes for their reunion had been rejected, ignored, or redirected. The pain wrapped itself in a flinty coat for protection, jagged corners of anger threatening to cut anything that came too close. 

Still… the slight movements behind Shiro’s jaw and at the corner of his eye revealed too much to someone that knew him well. Keith gritted his own teeth and looked away first. He owed his friend that privacy, at least. He knew Shiro hated it when the situation spiraled away from his sense of control, and with deadly certainty he knew which cracks that he could press at to fracture that control completely.

Despite everything, he desperately wanted to stand beside Shiro, to put a hand on his shoulder and tell him everything would be ok, with words, with a smile, with a touch. He just wished it wasn’t so one-sided. 

Keith yanked the collar of his jacket forward, flicked his hair free from it, and gave a glare back towards the two similar-looking men before stalking out of the training arena. Shiro could deal with Kuro and sort out whatever he was feeling. 

Keith didn’t need to put up with this overprotective shit.


	3. Regrets (Keith)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An advanced warning for anyone concerned with this, the rating is going to go up in Chapter 5, apologies to anyone that turns off. Thought I could keep this one to a hard M…. but nope. E it will be.

* * *

Keith tossed uneasily throughout the night. It figured. For once, no alarms split the silence. No distress beacons hurried them off-course. It was the reprieve he’d been hoping for, just at absolutely the wrong time. He could really use a distraction. 

Instead memories taunted him, replaying repeatedly, highlighting again and again how _wrong_ all of his responses had been. If he’d said something _better,_ if he only knew what to do… he wouldn’t be stuck where he was. He ran his hands through his hair, wishing he could knock the regrets from his head but instead they flashed all the more vivid, anxiety revving the throttle on his heart rate. 

_He’d reached Shiro first. He didn’t remember everything, but he remembered the moment their eyes had locked, the indescribable flood of relief –_ again _. They’d broken the bars down; and Keith hadn’t cared who saw, he’d_ ran. _But he was just one of many. His touch faded away, pressed out by the hugs and chatter of the others._

_It was later, much later, when he’d sat beside Shiro on the castle, both of them curled around cups of Altaen something-like-tea. He’d nudged his leg into Shiro’s, pressing his body closer. He didn’t have an excuse for it, just the need to get closer, to feel Shiro warm and solid beside him. And Keith knew exactly what he was going to say._

_”Taka-” Keith had only gotten half of the name out before he saw Shiro’s face go hard. Shiro shook his head, staring intently down at the tea._

_”Don’t.” Shiro had said with a solemn finality, finally shifting his leg away from Keith’s._

_And with that one word Keith had felt all his hopes start to become unmoored. Uncharacteristically, he felt a sense of insecurity creep in. He was too used to the sense of calm that came from not giving a fuck about how others reacted to him. But damn it, Shiro was the only one whose opinion he actually cared about, and it_ ate _at him, gnawing him hollow with the regret, with_ what-ifs.

_But then there had been other hurdles thrown into Keith’s way. He was bitter, but even that wasn’t enough to blind him to the fear in Shiro’s eyes when he saw Kuro. He’d quickly offered to help, and yet, Shiro soundly dismissed it. Dismissed_ him. _Useless._

He’d misinterpreted anything. He stared blankly at the ceiling, wondering if he should be grateful for Shiro’s evasions, if they’d saved him from making an absolute and complete fool of himself. He’d been toeing that line for too long as it was, always tempted to launch himself head first across it. 

Gradually the lights in the room grew warm and bright, signalling the start of a randomly defined day. Keith debated rolling over and just not leaving the bed. He felt strange in his own skin. This wasn’t how he faced things… but… 

Well. If Shiro wanted to avoid everything, Keith could attempt to match that, painfully self-aware that he’d be the first one to break. It just wasn’t who he was.

* * *

The doors whooshed open to the bridge. Keith wondered if the view would ever stop being so breathtaking. Like he’d expected, he wasn’t alone. 

Keith meandered over to stand near Allura, lightly touching the back of her chair. Her eyes flicked up from the green glow of the display screens. She gave a small smile. 

“Good morning number four,” Coran chirped. 

Keith leaned over, looking at the screens they were focused on. Everything was written in Altean. 

“Morning.” he aimed for politeness. 

Allura’s eyes followed Keith’s gaze and she offered an explanation. “We’re consolidating any news we can pick up. I’ll be giving a briefing later today but there are some worlds… some galaxies even, that have high strategic importance. If we can liberate a few of those, perhaps we can have access to a greater number of allies.”

Keith nodded. It had been so naive of them to hope that killing one dictator would change an entire governing system. Those days of hope seemed so distant now. “Sounds good.” 

He paused, staring at the symbols on the screens. “Do you need any help?” 

Coran shook his head. “Pidge and Hunk will set up translators for you Paladins a bit later, but for now it’s easier to get a quick overview in Altean.”

Keith nodded, taking that as a dismissal. 

Allura seemed to have other plans though. “Keith…” she drew out the vowels in his name. He narrowed his eyes, not sure where this was heading. 

She reached out to touch his hand. 

Keith froze in surprise. He wasn’t one for casual touch. Usually Allura wasn’t either. 

Allura looked troubled. “Have you talked with Shiro yet?”

It felt like ice had been dropped down his back. Keith’s expression blanked as his mind scrabbled for the meaning behind those words.

_I’ve…. Tried…?_ His chest contracted. He didn’t know how much he wanted to admit. Well, actually yes, he knew how much he wanted to say about that - nothing. 

Instead he let his eyes be drawn back to the stars streaming in front of them. Travelling without the teladuv saved Allura’s energy, gave them more time to prepare for exactly what they would encounter. Too much time. 

“He’s… been busy…” Keith said carefully. Allura’s fingers compressed briefly on his. He wondered if that was supposed to be comforting. The desire to pull away itched over his skin but he fought against it. He tried to appear as relaxed as… well. As he could. 

“You need to. Soon.” Allura’s words gained a sharper edge as he evaded. 

Keith stopped breathing. How much did she know? His eyes slid cautiously back to her. Did she mean what he thought she meant? 

Not finding any clues in her serious expression,he looked over at Coran; who was just eating something and flicking through news reports, then back to Allura. It seemed casual enough, he tried to reassure his panicking thoughts. Maybe she wasn’t implying what...

Allura’s eyebrows hitched together and she continued, looking a bit disturbed at his silence.

“I-we need to make sure Voltron can still be formed. Shiro will be back in the Black Lion.” Back to their original formation. “I’ll set training for this evening, starting with the virtual reality systems. But it would be good if you could confirm together that you’re satisfied with the rearrangement.“

Keith was fine with that. And Shiro’s outlook _would_ clash with the red lion’s; there really wasn’t another option. “I’ve tried to talk with him a few times…” Keith said, stepping carefully around the painful reminder. He considered. He didn’t think Shiro would have a problem renewing his position as head of Voltron. “I’m much more comfortable with Red….” he said trying to reassure her. “But maybe you should talk to Shiro instead of me.”

Allura frowned. “I will. After. This should come from you, though, not from me.”

Keith set his lips. The last thing he really wanted to do was interact with Shiro. Too many emotions broiled beneath his skin. He wondered if talking in front of the group would help or if it’d be even messier. Would it be different if it was just ‘business’? Keith really wasn’t eager to see just how deep Shiro’s evasion ran. 

But he nodded. Anything would be better than figuring out the answer to _that_ question in the virtual reality rigs. 

“I’ll try.” he agreed, looking back out to the stars.

* * *

When he headed to breakfast, Keith found Pidge and Kuro already in the small room, their backs towards him as he froze in the entranceway. Pidge was in the middle of explaining something, broad gestures and a forgotten spoon in her hand threatening to launch goo into new trajectories.

Kuro laughed. It sounded so much like the carefree Shiro of _before that it hurt. Shiro had once been so quick to laugh, so open with everyone… Before._

And Keith reversed, slowly backing out of the kitchen area. 

Plans be damned.

* * *

Shiro’s room was empty, but Keith’s second guess was correct. Keith leaned slowly against the door to the training room, feeling a sick sense of deja vu from the night before. “So Pidge and Kuro were just having breakfast…” Keith said casually. 

Too casually.

It definitely caught Shiro’s attention. Those grey eyes flicked to Keith, away from his opponent. “And?” Shiro grunted as the gladiator-bot landed a blow to his shoulder. 

“Well, if we’re not supposed to be alone with him, shouldn’t you go drag him away from Pidge?” Keith needled flatly, not so much looking to cause pain as he was to have his thoughts confirmed, to flay his own emotions to the bone. 

Shiro took on the offensive, landing a few more blows before he called to end the program. He reached out for a towel, hiding his face while he mopped the sweat from it. “I’m not worried about Pidge.”

Part of Keith agreed with that completely. Pidge was a force to be reckoned with, with her skills she could probably bring down the Galra Empire alone, given enough time. And the other part of him sank into a blind fury as Shiro confirmed that it was _just_ an issue for Keith. 

“Why don’t you trust me anymore?!” Keith demanded. 

“It’s not you.” Like usual, Shiro answered Keith’s explosions with calm, with quiet. Keith was too irritated to even consider the words more than a stupid platitude. Keith seethed, looking for a fight, an outlet, anything, just needing to feel _something._ And even in that he was disappointed. Shiro paused for too long before adding, “Please… don’t push me on this.”

Keith was wordless. 

“I need to go,” Shiro gathered his things like it wasn’t a blatant lie, like he wouldn’t have continued training if Keith hadn’t come in. 

Keith reached out, catching his wrist. A moment of panic lit in Shiro’s eyes as he pulled back. Keith’s fingers flew open as if they’d been burned. Fuck. He stared wide-eyed at Shiro’s back as the taller Paladin immediately turned away. There was no way Keith could force himself ignore that moment of vulnerability, as much as his superficial anger tempted him to. In that moment he realized he didn’t care what Shiro was trying to hide - he wanted him to be _himself,_ to have that irritatingly-noble air of truth about him rather than whatever this facade was, even if the truth was bitter and painful. Wanted him to acknowledge _something_ about what had happened. 

“At least tell me–” Keith demanded, then cut himself off with a frustrated noise, because Shiro wouldn’t be Shiro if he wasn’t trying to shoulder Atlas’ burden by himself, hiding his own struggles with a smile or this newer cold mask. “This is ridiculous,” Keith muttered. He tried to mimic Shiro’s cold reserve, icing his anger down to tolerable temperatures. 

Keith drew in a breath, forcing himself to continue despite the quiver in his words, despite the way his voice threatened to break. “ ...tell me what happened out there?” he switched to a whisper, hoping that the softer tone might get through where his anger didn’t. 

Shiro gave another small shake of his head. 

Keith could practically _see_ Shiro wall himself off, the guarded expression never leaving his face. “It’s not important right now,” Shiro said, so cold and careful. 

This was still Shiro, Keith reminded himself, no matter how much. He shut his eyes, mentally preparing himself. He could be vulnerable with Shiro. Keith took a deep breath, starting to dismantle all his own shields, letting the pain start to show in his expression, even if he couldn’t bear to look Shiro in the eyes while he did so. “Tell me what’s changed between us then…” he said, his voice so small he wasn’t entirely certain Shiro would hear him.

There wasn’t a reply. He opened his eyes just in time for the door to hiss shut, leaving him alone with one more question he’d regret asking. 

Keith leaned his head back against the bulkhead, sagging into the support strut. He couldn’t do this. The castle was so small for being so large and empty. He was going to suffocate.


	4. Resolve (Shiro)

* * *

_Get out get out get out get out get out get out get out get out get out get out get out get out get out get out get out get out get out get out get out get out get out get out get out get out get out get out get out get out get out get out get out get out get out–_

The familiar refrain echoed through Shiro’s head and he fought hard against the rising panic, his throat threatening to close. It felt like cotton was packed heavily into his ears, the edges of his vision growing dark and blurry as the panic attack threatened to leave him frozen and defenceless. Adrenaline crashed through his system, rational thoughts drowning in chemical fight-or-flight impulses. _Keep it together_. Over his racing heart he formed mantras, trying to slow his breathing to the words. He’s on the Castle. He’s _safe._

No violet energy crackled behind his eyes. No physical pain lanced through his body. It wasn’t the druids peeling and tearing memories free, creating ghosts and echoes from the synaptic patterns to lure him out, to grant false hopes to be met with _more_ pain –this was just his friend– but the nightmares were always lurking. 

He wasn’t sure how far away his feet had carried him when the sense of panic finally broke. It was like surfacing from a dive gone too long; just barely managing to choke in a breath of air, trying to focus. He _hated_ feeling so out of control. He reached out, touching a wall, trying to ground himself in this reality. 

It was getting worse. 

The triggers were getting stronger. Especially as he spent more time stressing over Kuro’s presence; a physical reminder of what the druids were capable of. And the harder he tried to keep himself together, the faster the fragmented pieces of his psyche seemed to shatter. Each time he tried to hold on, they cut deeper into Shiro’s desperate grasp, slicing pieces of him free from the present and dropping him right back into the clutches of the demons he thought he’d escaped. 

Keith’s compassion cut through his reality faster than a blade, and Shiro had no defenses. Not when the gestures were so close to the quiet moments that he cherished; the memories the druids had taken the deepest pleasure in warping into pain.

Those vivid claws of energy digging into each emotion they could drag from him, forming them into a weapon born of malicious intent and quintessence. 

But they hadn’t twisted _him_ , Shiro tried to remind himself. They’d tried. They couldn’t bend him to their will. They’d just gotten a spectre from him, a contorted shadow filled with darker emotions and impulses. 

There wasn’t any way to let the others on the Castle know just how deep this nightmare ran though - not without admitting far too much about his innermost thoughts. 

Every fibre in his being wanted to protect the others from that. From Kuro. And if he did admit it, if that might be enough to protect them… It would absolutely destroy their opinion of him. It might corrupt any last possibility of forming Voltron again. 

Patience. Focus. _Breathe_. 

“Shiro!”

Shiro turned at Allura’s voice, pushing himself off of the wall like he didn’t need the support. He forced a smile onto his face, patching over his thoughts as best he could. He was ok. _He was ok._ If he believed it hard enough he could will it to happen. And the distraction helped, gave his mind something else to clutch onto. 

“Princess,” he said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He hoped she couldn’t hear his heart race or smell the cold sweat under his shirt. 

“What are you doing here?” Allura asked, curiosity written into her face as she caught up with Shiro. 

Shiro looked around. “Not sure,” he admitted. He wasn’t entirely sure where his feet had taken him. Somewhere that felt safe. Somewhere where he didn’t have to face Keith. That was about his only requirement. 

Her eyebrows hitched together but she let that go diplomatically. 

“Where’s Kuro?” Shiro asked. 

“With Lance and Hunk and the mice in the kitchen,” Allura replied smoothly, linking her arm with Shiro’s as she fell into step beside him. “Like you said, he won’t be left alone.”

Shiro sighed, wishing his anxiety was easier to convince that it would be enough. 

Allura let them walk a while in silence. “Shiro…” she started. “Are you up for joining training with the other paladins tonight? We should see if Voltron can be formed.” He could hear the care she was taking to make it a request rather than an order, and appreciated it. 

Shiro’s first instinct was to say yes. He agreed with the Princess. And if he could jump back into training, pretend everything was alright, get some order and control back in his life… well, it was tempting. _‘Yes, of course,’_ would have been his usual reply. The muscles in his cheek jumped as he forced himself to hold back the easy agreement, because the thought of trying to meld with anyone else when his thoughts were this shattered was terrifying. 

“No,” he answered, quiet and honest after his long pause. “I need some time.” He hated to admit it. He clenched his jaw. But it was better to ask for the time now, then have everyone witness him fall to pieces. 

Allura gently pulled them to a stop. She reached over and stroked Shiro’s arm lightly, just above where her other arm wove through it. “We have time now,” she said gently. “Take some. Let me know when you feel ready again.”

Ready… Old, half-remembered words echoed in his mind. _The decisive head of Voltron. A born leader._ There was a sinking feeling in Shiro’s stomach. _Someone in control at all times._ He wasn’t sure if he could be that person. He hadn’t been entirely sure of it at the beginning, either, but especially not now. Maybe not ever again. His thoughts threatened to spiral into a dark place, but he forced an answering smile as he nodded. 

Allura mimicked the human gesture, and freed her arms from Shiro, pressing her palm into the touchplate of the wall. The door hissed open, the sound and faint scent of water finally letting Shiro know where they’d ended up. 

“Come for a swim?” She asked, canting her head to the side with the question. 

Shiro shook his head, expression tight. “Maybe next time.” He held his small smile in place like a shield until the door slid shut behind her.

  


* * *

  


“Hellooooooo number one,” Coran welcomed Shiro with a sing-song tone. Shiro tensed, really not in the mood, but the greeting seemed to be the extent of Coran’s silliness. The Altean was sprawled in one of the front chairs, flicking through readouts with a relaxed air. 

“Hey…” Shiro said, more softly, as he made his way closer to Coran, past the abandoned control stations on the bridge. With just the two of them there the structure seemed to stretch larger around them, holding the ghosts of the past in the emptiness. Echoes and remnants of older battles, with the ship itself still somehow steadily moving forward ten thousand years later. 

Coran still held something of that past, although it was usually overshadowed by his jovial eccentricities. But here, without the younger Paladins, without Allura, there was a sense of solidarity from someone else who carried hidden scars and wore many masks. 

Shiro needed that right now. 

He needed someone who understood hard choices, and loss. He needed someone he could talk to, and not someone who he might have to try to lead in the future. He needed someone whose respect wasn’t essential, if he was going to try to talk about this. 

Coran’s violet eyes crinkled at the edges as he gave Shiro a fond smile. The Royal Advisor paused the scrolling symbols in front of him. He seemed to pick up on Shiro’s uneasy, quiet mood, more quickly than Shiro would have given him credit for. 

From some hidden compartment, Coran pulled out a few mugs, poured something from a small bottle, and set them on a hoverplate beside him. He gestured to the nearest station. Shiro looked over, seeing how far away the chair was. With a sigh, Shiro sat where he was instead. It wasn’t a night for loud words. 

Maybe it wasn’t a night for words at all. The silence stretched on as Shiro took one of the mugs, rolling it between his hands. The courage to speak didn’t come quickly. They watching the stars blur in front of the large ship. 

“Can you tell me what you know about the druids, about what can make things like Kuro?” Shiro asked, the question laced heavily with revulsion. Tentatively, and maybe to avoid meeting Coran’s eyes, Shiro sniffed at the drink. It didn’t smell like nunvill, at least.

“Quintessence –life force– can be a very powerful thing, and not something easily defined,” Coran warned. “I’m not sure how much translates correctly into your primitive words.”

Shiro’s lips quirked up. “Try, at least.” 

Coran gave a heavy sigh, evading Shiro’s request. “It can be very… situational.” He didn’t seem inclined to continue. 

Shiro narrowed his eyes and stared resolutely forward. When he tried it, the drink wasn’t as foul as some of the other Altean options, but seemed just as strong. Strong enough to encourage him to speak, after a bit. 

“They were readying a… very personal ro-beast to challenge Voltron,” Shiro spoke quietly. “They couldn’t force me to…” his voice broke, the train of thought abandoned. “They tried. There were so many drugs, so many… encouragements… but I didn’t - I couldn’t.”

Coran sat in quiet support, purple-blue eyes alien in some ways, so familiar in others. 

It took Shiro a few tries, but when he was able to speak again he could keep his voice steady. “They decided to try to steal back the Champion they’d created. They could target what they wanted from my mind… everything I could keep repressed and guarded. I…”

He hid his eyes behind his human hand. “I never liked the arena,” he said, as if trying to convince himself. He had felt the thrill of victory, of living another day. He’d faked the bloodlust to keep Matt safe. He’d kept the farce up too long afterwards. “But they could rip out those moments of survival, take away my control, my thoughts, my desires… I watched them form something so… twisted from parts of me.” Shiro shuddered. “It kills a part of me every time to recognize a thought; a strategy that I would have acted on brought to life… _here…”_

Coran paused and considered. “I don’t think the druids got as far as they wanted, if that was their goal. Kuro’s not true evil. Allura may be the one who can look into the hearts of others but when we thought we’d rescued you… we could see you in him.”

Shiro groaned, his worst feelings confirmed. 

Coran shook his head. “If there’s no battles around… Kuro lets Lance do his hair. Pidge has run more tests on his arm then the rest of us can count. I’ve found Kuro curled up next to Hunk in the kitchen. The mice _play_ with him. And in battle… well.” Coran set his mug down. Apparently that needed very little other explanation. 

“And with Keith?” That was the answer Shiro was most afraid of. 

“Keith realized early on that it wasn’t you. He insisted. He’s been avoiding Kuro, because of that, I think,“ Coran didn’t seem sure of the next thing he wanted to say, and Shiro tried to encourage him with silence and attention. “He didn’t take your disappearance too well.”

That… was probably an understatement, knowing Keith. Shiro’s lips tightened and guilt flooded over him. 

“You’re not doing so well reconciling either.” Coran plowed ahead. 

That was an understatement too. “I know,” Shiro said flatly, trying to hide the pain in his voice. There was so much that had been left unsaid. So much he didn’t want to admit, or explain. It left him in a hell of his own making. 

Coran hesitated. “If Kuro was created with quintessence and… thoughts or impulses… quintessence doesn’t last forever. Druids can create shadow forms but without boosts of quintessence they don’t exist too long outside the range of the magic-user.”

_Quintessence doesn’t last forever._ It was one of the first rays of hope that Shiro had felt. There would be an end to this. 

“I left number four in the starboard observatory earlier… he may still be there…?” Coran twisted at his moustache.

Shiro startled a bit, running through heights in his head. He paused a moment, suddenly unsure if Keith or Lance was taller. “Keith?” Shiro asked uncertainly, knowing that it was the answer that made sense. Guilt crept into his expression as he hoped for confirmation. 

Coran nodded. 

_Had he lost so much time between talking to Keith and now? How had Coran managed to talk to Keith..._ Shiro rubbed a hand over his face. He felt so old. Tired. He didn’t want to do this. “Yeah,” Shiro breathed. “Yeah.” He _should_ do this. He needed to be the adult here. The responsibility was heavy on his shoulders. 

_Someone who others follow without hesitation._ But he wasn’t sure he could say anything. Shiro swallowed the last of the drink. He was pretty sure not saying anything would be worse. At the very least, even if he panicked, this time he had to stay with Keith. Keith would understand, eventually. 

Even if the explanation would hurt more than the silence; he owed Keith that much.


	5. Distraction (Keith)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating goes up! (tagging as I go here, so if you’re in for this trope but there are specific things that you don’t want to read about please check back over the tags before continuing). This chapter is NSFW.

* * *

Some of Keith’s first memories came from of his fascination with images from space. Nebulae in particular - Pillars of Creation, The Cat Eye, The Hourglass, The Helix. Each image so unique, stretching the limit of human photography. There had been years where he had collected them. Old printouts of various qualities, the cover of a stolen retro music album, pages torn from textbooks, _everything_ ended up pinned to the bottom of the bunk above him. In the end, their graceful forms, all the cloudlike swirls of colours had been just another disappointment; formed from colours that didn’t exist to the naked eye, light scattered from elements too spread out to actually see when you got near to them. He’d never fly through a nebula like he’d imagined as a child.

Some things could only be beautiful from far away. 

When Coran had asked him why he was upset, Keith had still been raw. He’d have pulled out his own teeth before he admitted anything about the true reason though. Coran was someone who could easily fill the silence though. Still slightly stunned, Keith let him. It was marginally better than being alone with his thoughts. 

He wasn’t sure when the conversation had turned to the nebula they were travelling near. Coran’s constant chatter wore down his angry silence. Keith had fumbled out an explanation of his childhood imaginings. 

Coran had smiled brightly brought him and brought him to this observatory - still talking quietly and inanely; the sort of distraction that could be tuned out. That is, until his gestures over a control projection brought the darkness outside the ship to life.

Keith watched, entranced by the colours swirling around them, each colour picking out by the shipboard computers and displayed for him, superimposed on the space around them. The display blending seamlessly with the windows. It was completely magical, the ship’s sensors tracking the cloud-like elements in colours they might have been on earth - or not, Keith didn’t even care. 

This time, when he was left to his solitude, he didn’t feel so alone.

* * *

He heard the door. 

Keith’s hopes spiked upwards. He’d been focused on Shiro for too long to mistake that pace, that _presence_ for anyone else, even without seeing him. Although Keith’s shoulders tensed, he refused to turn. At least he had a little power here, he wouldn’t keep chasing forever, he promised himself, even as his heart twisted in fear that the thought was a lie. But he could pretend. He could scrape together that much dignity. 

He felt Shiro come to stand behind him, tracking the deceptively light pad of boots against the ship’s floors. And then he quickly rethought everything as ‘Shiro’ stepped through the usual space held carefully between them, coming to a halt far too close to him. Close enough that Keith could almost feel him. Keith narrowed his eyes and resolutely stayed staring at the nebula outside the ship.

Evidently that wasn’t enough for his visitor. 

He was hyperaware of Kuro moving. Although they were such different entities, his body still reacted as if it were Shiro, tense and hopeful, with layers of defensive wariness over it all because it _wasn’t_ Shiro. 

Kuro moved slowly though, and Keith chose not to shift away. 

Kuro’s hand was gentle in Keith’s hair, the gentle brush of fingertips traced their way down the back of his neck. Keith closed his eyes tightly, but he couldn’t stop the audible, shuddering breath he sucked in as his stomach contracted. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this…”

Keith’s eyes snapped back open and he finally turned, because something in the achingly soft voice made him think that maybe, just maybe, it was actually Shiro. 

Kuro’s golden, heavily lidded eyes killed that hope quickly. 

Keith flinched away from the touch, looking back out to the stars. His defenses snapped back into place. “Where’s Shiro?”

Kuro’s hand lingered on his shoulder though, and Keith didn’t bother shrugging it off. Kuro even smelled like Shiro. It was _unfair._

Kuro hummed. “Busy. I think with Allura…” The name was offered in a teasing voice. 

Even _knowing_ Kuro was saying it on purpose, Keith couldn’t stop himself from taking the bait, fingers curling into fists against the window, barely suppressing any other reaction. 

“Right.” Keith blew out a heavy breath, trying to will himself _not to care_ even as jealousy surged bright and vivid behind his eyes, strangling most of his rational thoughts. 

Kuro’s hand slowly trailed down Keith’s arm, skimming over the thick fabric of his jacket. The first brush of fingertips was light over the bare skin on the back of his fist. Shivers crawled across Keith’s shoulder blades as he felt his skin draw taut, every small hair rising to attention at the touch. Kuro’s larger hand covered Keith’s, stretching out before contracting, drawing faintly electric lines back over his fingers. Distracted, Keith allowed his fist to soften. Kuro stretched out his hand again, and this time when he pulled back, his fingers held more power, forcing Keith’s apart, pressing relentlessly between them.

Keith was transfixed, staring down at Kuro’s hand interwoven with his. 

“I can hear your heartbeat, little one…” Kuro pressed in closer behind Keith. His other hand traced dangerous claws down the back of Keith’s neck. He caressed forward, slipping his arm underneath Keith’s to press a large metallic handprint into the front of Keith’s chest, over Keith’s heart. The movement dipped underneath Keith’s jacket. Kuro’s lips were warm against the side of his cheek. Keith could feel them move with Kuro’s words, ghosting across the edge of his jaw. “You need to remember to breathe…”

Embarrassment burned hot. “Yeah?” Keith asked, trying to sound offended. It came out more desperate as his voice hitched around the intake of air. 

Keith froze as Kuro’s fingers etched lines across his chest, just shy of tickling with how light he kept the gesture. Liquid heat surged upward with the tantalizing sweep of movement over his nipple. He closed his eyes. If it wasn’t for the clawtips it could be Shiro. It could be a thousand different fantasies he’d had. He finally took another ragged breath as that metallic hand coursed down, stroking more firmly as it spread over his lower abs.

They could be Shiro’s hands. It could Shiro’s body pressing him more insistently into the viewing window - Shiro’s voice so close to him, whispering, “You feel like you belong next to me. Under me.”

The teasing hand skimmed lower, ever so lightly over his groin, and Keith's strength left his body with his next exhale. He sagged forward into the window, barely managing to keep his hips still and not thrust at Kuro’s hand. He gathered his arms together, folding in on himself and resting his forehead against his arms. 

"Do you want this?" Kuro drawled in his ear.

Keith forced his heavy eyes to slit open, staring out into the beautiful pseudo-coloured elements on the viewscreen ahead of him. There were faint hints of reflections among the lies of the clouds, arcs of light from the screens and a glow of devious eyes over his shoulder.

Keith shut his eyes again. "Yes," he whispered, his need raw and near-whining underneath the word. And he did. Even if it would never be _Shiro_ he ached to feel this, once, just once, just enough for him to bring old dreams to life, to give himself some comfort. 

Kuro's hand tightened over him, blissful pressure, and Keith arched back into that beautiful body behind him for a moment, craving -needing- the contact. It brought a rush of heat so powerful he wasn’t sure he'd be able to _think_ much longer. 

“Oh,” Keith dropped his head back onto Kuro’s shoulder, one hand reaching up and back over his shoulder to tangle in that familiar white forelock, idly trying to keep Kuro close. One distracting thought kept flickering through his mind. "We should. Ngh. Go..." he mumbled, the words lost in the way he arched his hips forward again into Kuro's lazy strokes. “My room _–ah,”_ he had never been articulate, exactly, especially not in moments like this, and Keith fought to find the words. Tried to remember why he needed them in the first place when his body was vibrating with the overwhelming sensations. “Locks,” Keith hissed the word out as he tried to get his point across reaching back to hook his fingers tightly into the narrow hips trapping his body there. 

"No. Here." Kuro’s words were decisive, but the voice in Keith’s ear was ragged with emotion. Demanding, before it softened to a gentler admission. "I’ve wanted this for too long."

Keith felt the tension flickering through his abs spread into a full body shudder because the voice was Shiro's and hearing those words in _that_ voice was enough to make him dizzy with arousal. 

There was an added thrill, a spike of fear and vulnerability that stabbed through the moment. Kuro's left hand fisted into his shirt, pulling it up roughly, freeing it from Keith’s belt. His fingers were warm against Keith's stomach, powerful and determined as they trailed over his belt and dipped under the edge of his pants. Each individual muscle tensed involuntarily as Kuro’s hand passed, ripples beneath his skin as the desire gathered into a flood poised to sweep him away. Keith’s pants skimmed his figure, but they were only tight enough to force Kuro's wrist, his hand, close into Keith's body.

He held his breath when Kuro's fingers skimmed over his erection, sliding over and down to cradle lightly over his balls before stroking slowly back up. The slide of skin against skin was hot friction, the unfamiliar touch exquisite. 

Keith breathed in uneven pants, refusing to make any other sound. He was too close already. 

“How did you imagine our first time, hmm?” Kuro asked. It was a tease. A horrible tease. Keith couldn’t _think_ , couldn’t answer if he’d wanted too. Shame curled around the edges of his consciousness. He shouldn’t be doing this. This wasn’t the ‘first time’ he wanted. But oh, it could feel exactly like it was…

A disappointed tsk in his ear and the stilling hand against his hardness let him know Kuro wasn’t too happy with his silence. Keith’s eyebrows knotted together and he couldn’t help the frustrated whine that finally escaped, accompanied by an involuntary jerk of his hips. 

Kuro laughed wickedly, seemingly satisfied to get _some_ reaction out of Keith, even if it wasn’t verbal. His fingers teased over the crown of Keith’s cock, and Keith sighed at the renewed movement, “Tell me, in your dreams does Shiro take you apart sweetly? Or is it rough and passionate? Does he overpower you?” 

Keith’s lips parted. His hips rolling in a familiar rhythm, letting himself grind back shamelessly. His mind reeled with a thousand fantasies, familiar territory for lonely nights. Hundreds of different scenarios flash through his mind. Any number of them had fueled his fantasies in the past - but they were precious, too much a part of his deepest desires to be given up here. 

Kuro’s metallic hand melded over his hipbone, pulling Keith back roughly, the slight pain giving him respite from the drowning pleasure. He was already on a knife’s edge, where pleasure was so overwhelming it threatened to spill over into release, threatened to turn into pain with every throb of his heartbeat. With a growing awareness, Keith could feel Kuro’s own hardness pressing into him, heavy and thick and almost lazily rocking into his body. 

Fear drove his arousal higher still, licked at the corners of his mind. They didn’t have lube and Kuro felt _big_. He wasn’t ready for this. Keith struggled in Kuro’s grip but there was nowhere to go. A strangled sound escaped his lips as he ended up thrusting forward into Kuro’s tightening fist. He watched stars trace patterns on the inside of his eyelids. Kuro’s right hand released Keith’s hip to stroke over his flank, tracing the curve of sensitive skin where his ass met the top of his thigh. With the smallest step forward Kuro closed the distance between them again; a powerful presence behind him sealing them together in a hot press from hips to shoulders. 

“Let me hear you,” Kuro panted, that familiar voice gone raw and wanting, nuzzling slightly into the back of Keith’s head, lips moving messily through his long hair to the flushed skin beneath. 

Keith bit his own lip, still stubbornly refusing Kuro that much. He felt those lips curl into a smile against his skin a moment before Kuro’s fingers tightened on his length, drawing quiet, mewling whimpers from his throat. The pitch of his noises increased as tense heat grew in steady layers, coiling through his core.

Kuro teased along the tip of his cock, tracing intricate designs with the precum, relentlessly finding his most sensitive areas. He coaxed little gasps and muffled tones from Keith’s throat, from behind his swollen, bitten lip. It was too much. Keith was falling over the edge of that cliff. With a muffled, half-contained cry, Keith came, slick and hot over Kuro’s hand. Pleasure locked his body into a frozen, blissed out statue. 

Kuro’s movements slowed, gently pulling Keith through the last his orgasm, until Keith’s hips stuttered away and he gasped, pushing weakly at Kuro’s hand as the touch became too much. His shoulder caught his weight against the window, and Keith turned as much as he could. He looked back over his shoulder, watching Kuro out of the corner of his eye as he panted, trying to recover. 

Kuro met his gaze, bringing his left hand to his lips. Very deliberately, he covered his lower lip with his tongue. Kuro made a low sound as he sucked his fingers into his mouth. His posture made it a challenge, his other arm bracketed Keith, still pinning him in place with his weight against his lower body. 

Keith couldn’t look away. 

Kuro’s withdrew his fingers, moved to lick at the wetness coating on his palm. The suggestive movements were enough to catch Keith’s interest again, far too soon. His dick twitched and he moaned under his breath, still over-sensitive for the friction against his wet and cooling clothes. Despite the heaviness in his limbs, there was a sense of lazy contentment. 

Maybe it didn’t have to be _real_ to be what he needed. 

Kuro tilted his head to the side, an unusual gesture Keith hadn’t seen on Shiro before. It was as if Kuro was listening to something only he could hear. A satisfied smile pulled Kuro’s lips into a smirk. “Shiro’s getting closer…” Kuro mused out loud. “Think he’s looking for you, or for me?” 

With a final lick of his fingers, Kuro winked. He caressed his damp hand across Keith’s cheek. When Keith flinched, Kuro stepped backwards.

He hadn’t realized how much he was depending on Kuro to keep him upright. Keith made a noise as his shaky legs refused to catch him, and surprised, he slid to the floor. He scrubbed the back of his hand across his cheek, glaring up at Kuro defiantly. 

“We’re not done here, little one…” Kuro purred as he paused by the door. 

Keith wasn’t sure if it was meant as a promise or a threat as he watched Kuro stroke himself through his dark pants. 

“Not if _he_ doesn’t catch us.” 

Keith’s mind raced to try to catch up with what had just happened. Kuro’s smile grew as he turned and was gone, disappearing as the doors whooshed open and shut, leaving Keith alone. Just a dishevelled mess, crumpled at the foot of the window. 

Keith slumped, hand unsteady as he pulled his rumpled shirt down, covering as much of his pants as he could. _Fuck._

Panic cut through the post-orgasmic haze pretty effectively. He drew his knees into his stomach almost defensively, folded his arms across them. Keith stared at the door, heart dropping through his stomach and plunging lower. There really wasn’t any way to hide what had happened, even if hiding had been his style. 

His stomach soured as he heard footsteps close outside the door. Keith’s dark eyes tracked the faint sounds from one side of the door to the other. Pacing. Keith held his breath. 

Instead of relief, Keith was left with a sense of deep disappointment when the footsteps faded away.


	6. Just a Pawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this got darker. Again. Tags have been updated, for those of you subscribed. Literally nothing in this chapter is safe for work.
> 
> * * *

Keith woke up to the feeling of Kuro’s hand stroking up his chest. He made a sleepy, appreciateive noise, stretching and pushing his body back into Kuro. Kuro was awake and _ready_ and Keith already felt himself responding. The fingers danced lazily up his chest and he pushed into them as they stroked firmly over his nipple, sending fierce spikes of heat directly to his groin. 

He didn’t want to open his eyes. He wanted to lie there for the moment and pretend that the whir of mechanics was Shiro’s prosthetic, pretend that he had really found what he wanted. He moaned and rocked his hip back, encouraging Kuro, but the hand flitted upwards rather than where he wanted it to go, leaving warm trails across his collarbone, pressing into the sensitive marks bitten into the skin of neck. 

Keith didn’t mind the hint of pain. He pressed his temple into the pillow to expose more of the delicate skin of his throat, content to lazily daydream and let Kuro explore his body. “Mmm…” he reached back with a foot, stroking it along Kuro’s leg. He wasn’t awake enough for much more. 

Until Kuro’s large hand wrapped around his throat. 

Keith’s eyes snapped open. This was new. Kuro had gone tense behind him. Sharp edges of worry starting to splinter apart the lazy morning. Keith opened his mouth and Kuro’s hand clenched tighter. The fingers didn’t tighten enough that he couldn’t breathe altogether, but the threat was definitely there; a reminder of the power that Kuro had in his body, that he could chose to use or not… and now?

Kuro leaned into his ear with a deceptively gentle nuzzle. “This will be fun…” he said, voice dark and gleeful. His breath was hot against Keith’s ear, followed by the warmth of his tongue, the sharp stab of teeth on his earlobe. “Just play along… ooooh... Or don’t. Be yourself, little Paladin. He’ll like that even more.” 

Keith had a sinking feeling he knew who the ‘he’ was. He clutched at the faint hope that this time, too, Shiro wouldn’t enter the room. 

With impossible strength Kuro dragged Keith up to a sitting position on the bed. The blanket fell into Keith’s lap. Keith struggled, raising his hands to the mechanical arm crossing his chest, trying to pry off the iron-like fingers around his neck, panic and shock dulling his ability to think. 

Keith couldn’t quite turn enough to see Kuro, to try to see what had inspired this change. He jerked and twisted but it wasn’t quite enough. Kuro was an immobile force. 

And then the door hissed open, just as Kuro had predicted. 

Against all rationality Keith felt guilt crash over him, the wave of emotion stilling his struggle. His eyes went wide and he didn’t know what he wanted to say, but he needed to say something. Something had to erase this moment. He had never wanted to know what Shiro looked like with a look like _that_ stricken across his face. 

Keith jabbed his elbow back, hoping to break Kuro’s grip on him. It didn’t work. Kuro pulled him tighter, his other hand ensnaring both of Keith’s wrists. The claws on his metal arm pricked sharply at Keith’s jumping pulse. “Shiro…” Keith managed to say, apology and shame blending over the name.

Kuro laughed again, but there was nothing carefree or happy in the noise. This was dark. This promised pain.

Shiro was frozen just inside the doorway. For a moment the hiss of the door closing was the only sound in the room. 

And Kuro leaned close to Keith’s ear. “Hadn’t you told him yet?” Kuro crooned. His hand left Keith’s throat, leaving the grip on his wrists. The mechanical hand smoothed Keith’s sleep rumpled hair from his face. It was mocking in how gentle it was. 

Keith froze too, under the tender touch. 

“I couldn’t–” Keith began, voice breaking. 

“Told him what?” Shiro demanded at the same time, just as much emotion in his words.

Both voices brimmed with defiance. Neither sure who Kuro has intended to speak to.

Kuro laughed, enjoying the power he held here. “See how he watches you, Keith….” Kuro’s hand stroked down over Keith’s face, the back of his fingers gentle, the claws kept carefully away. “You’ve seen him, hmmm? Before he was so distracted trying to keep _this_ from happening? Trying to hide what he felt for you?” 

Keith couldn’t look away from Shiro. His heart was hammering so loud in his chest. He wasn’t entirely sure what was going on but he needed to get out of this situation. 

Shiro was shaking his head. Shiro was _shaking_. “Kuro… don’t…”

“Don’t what?” Kuro taunted, his voice taking on a sing-song aspect. “Whatever’s in your mind - in _my_ mind - well... I think I already have….” 

Until now, Keith had felt like this little arrangement was an illicit temptation. Guilt-soaked and dangerous and so _wrong_ but exotic and almost exactly what he wanted. But at the moment he felt small, a fragile toy caught in a cat-and-mouse game, tossed around by a particularly capricious feline. He shifted uneasily, not sure if struggling would make things better or worse.

Kuro traced the dip above his collarbone, stroking down the front of his chest in an obvious display. The edge of claws threatened Keith’s nipple, the metallic fingers drawing cool shapes, the gentle brush of a sharp talon a promise for future pain.

“Oh, Shiro…” Kuro’s voice thrummed with pleasure, the sultry tone making the name an uneasy echo of a word, of a name, Keith had tried to keep firmly in his head. “Let me tell you just how responsive this one is to me. To _you.”_

With a quiet inhalation Keith dug his teeth into his lower lip, determined to not give Kuro the satisfaction of punctuating that with a moan as Kuro gave a heavy pinch to his hardening nipple. But the way Keith held his breath, the way he couldn’t help himself from pressing upward into the delicious streak of warm pain was as much of a tell as the moan he managed to suppress. Kuro’s hand paused.

The edge of Kuro’s talon scraped across the sensitive flesh. Keith tensed for a moment, and then his body betrayed him, making him squirm his hips in response to the sharp tease. He could feel the movements pushing at Kuro’s arousal behind him. Keith let his head fall backwards, unable to keep looking at Shiro. 

“It’s a shame you held back so long. I bet he would have really rather it be you, than me.” The words were fire in Keith’s ears, burning and re-awakening old desires. 

_Held back._ Keith’s mind frantically caught hold of that phrasing and he let his eyes slit open. He couldn’t raise his head. He jerked again at the hands that held him. Were Kuro’s first statements true then, too? Keith was desperately searching for a way to wrench control of this situation but to hear that Shiro might have… no. It was just a distraction. This had to be some twisted lie of Kuro’s. 

Kuro laughed again. He seemed aware that he’d caught Keith’s interest with his comments. 

His grip on Keith’s wrists tightened painfully, and the edges of Kuro’s talons rested along his chest in a threat, pricking at his skin. Keith stopped struggling, trying to get his heart out of his throat so he could breathe. 

Kuro continued speaking softly into Keith’s ear. “I have so many of Shiro’s memories, you know, Keith? Everything that fed into the darkness he wanted to keep contained. Every moment of lust, every aggressive instinct, every dirty thought… it wasn’t just fighting that he didn’t want to enjoy, Keith…”

Neither Keith nor Shiro could speak. 

Kuro shifted behind him, his voice gaining a sharp edge. “Look at him,” Kuro commanded. 

Keith lifted his head from Kuro’s shoulder. Shame streaked a deep blush across his cheeks. He really didn’t want Shiro to see him like this. But he steeled his will. He’d made this choice.

“Please don’t do this…” Keith didn’t expect the words to have any impact. 

Kuro shushed him, lips too gentle against his cheek. “You got what you wanted, no? This is the payment.” 

Keith flushed, so humiliated to be caught out like this. It was so obvious what he really wanted. And so obvious how weak he was. 

“And this is really the fun part….” Kuro lilted. “Because deep down inside, he thinks he _deserves_ this pain..” Kuro gave a wide smile. “He’s tried so hard to not have these thoughts… I’m sure he’s trying to figure out if this is a reward or a punishment…”

Keith looked up at Shiro, more incredulous now than before, but Kuro wasn’t giving him any time to process what was happening. 

“And now I can give you both what you want... I'm such a _giving_ person..." Kuro laughed and Keith’s chest constricted violently. A deep hatred boiled up inside Keith, tied so strongly to his wish to defend Shiro, even now. Even after everything. 

Shiro was looking back at them on the bed. His eyes were dark, wide, wild. His breathing was fast, his control so shot that his arm occasionally flared violet with his emotions, the energy flow sparking up and down over hidden circuit lines. 

“Keith…” Shiro began in a broken voice.

“Ah-ah-ah,” Kuro tsked. “Stay there. You made your choice.” He licked a long line up Keith’s neck, making Keith shudder with newfound revulsion. “Choices have consequences.” 

Keith renewed his struggle against Kuro’s hand, trying yet again to free his wrists. 

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Shiro tense. With their years of sparring, Keith could read that body language a mile away, and threw himself to the side, trying to clear a path to Kuro before Shiro leapt forward, arm finally activating in a haze of glowing purple light. 

Kuro’s prosthetic hand snapped out, and a bolt of energy intercepted Shiro before he’d fully taken a step. The room lit up in the sudden flash. 

“You always denied yourself so much…” the words dripped with disgust. Keith could feel when Kuro shook his head. Keith himself was frozen in shock, unsure about what he’d just seen. The violet light crackled into dark tendrils around Shiro, keeping him locked into place. Could… could Shiro do that too?

It took Keith a moment to snap out of his stupor. He gave another jerk on his firmly held hands and yelled, “Shiro!”

Shiro twitched against the bonds of energy, but otherwise didn’t respond. His face was contorted, and Keith couldn’t parse whether that was from pain or anger or something else entirely. 

Kuro clucked his tongue and inexorably pulled Keith back upright with his wrists. The sheet had been lost in the struggle, and with increasing terror, Keith realized he was now fully exposed to the room. To Shiro. Keith threw his head to the side, trying anyway he could to hide the shame and guilt that brought colour into his face.

“Don’t” he pleaded to Kuro. 

“Hmm…” Kuro nuzzled his neck, let the sharp points of his teeth threaten. “I liked it better when you were begging me for it. When you were begging _him_ for it, even,” he drawled, clearly for Shiro’s benefit. 

He shifted them on the bed, switching the hand he was holding Keith’s wrists with as Kuro pushed him down underneath him. The metallic claws dug heavily into his bruising wrists. “Sure you don’t want to beg me tonight? Maybe I’ll let Shiro free if you do… hmm?” 

Keith couldn’t help the way his gaze and attention snapped back towards Shiro, still restrained in the crackling energy. Should he…? He tried to ask with his eyes alone. 

Shiro managed to shake his head slightly, fighting the restraints and grunting out a muffled negative sound. A band of dark energy acted as a gag. 

Keith wasn’t sure if that was a suggestion or an order, and hated that he wanted to obey, even here, even now. “Shiro…” he whispered, tears starting to collect in his eyes. He could listen to Shiro’s guidance. 

He wouldn’t beg. 

 

The human-like hand on the centre of his back pushed his shoulder blades heavily towards the bed. Unwilling to leave his ass in the air like an offering, when he couldn’t fight Kuro’s weight anymore Keith let his entire body collapse against the sheets. Unresisting. 

Kuro sat on him, keeping him pinned. Keith renewed his struggling in the moment Kuro’s hand left his wrists. Humiliation and desperation rose up in his chest as he tried to throw Kuro off, but Kuro was too heavy, too powerful. There was a tearing noise as Kuro shredded the end of a sheet. Kuro manhandled him roughly into the position he wanted, taking the ripped fabric and knotting lengths of it tightly around Keith’s hands. 

When Kuro released his now-bound wrists, Keith let himself slump forward, pulling his hands towards his mouth and biting frantically at the knots in the fabric. Kuro ignored him for a bit, letting him feel just how powerless he was in this situation. The fabric had no give under his teeth. Then they were yanked roughly ahead of him. Kuro tied the end of the fabric to a beam at the head of the small bed. As he shifted his weight off of Keith, he pulled none too gently on Keith’s hips, stretching him out on the bed. Keeping his tied wrists away from his flashing teeth. 

“Oh come now, little one, no need to be so feisty,” Kuro crooned, stroking gentle hands down his back. “Surely you can give him one of his fantasies, after I’ve fulfilled so many of yours, hmm?”

Every muscle in his body tensed as Kuro’s hand slid down the cleft of his ass. He renewed his struggles, moving enough so that Kuro sat back down on his thighs, keeping him pinned with his body as well. There was a long, fumbling pause before the familiar click of a bottle cap danced over the hum of the energy holding Shiro. 

Cold lube was drizzled haphazardly over his ass, far too much, going everywhere as Keith tried to thrust his body away. He only succeeded in grinding his stubborn erection deeper into the bed. The friction was uncomfortable and he muffled a hiss in his own arm. 

Slippery hands pushed between his legs. Kuro didn’t stay silent for long. “Oh he’s had so many fantasies…” Kuro mumbled into the skin between Keith’s shoulders. Keith was about to go dizzy from the conflict between the information he was getting and situation he was in. He let himself freeze. 

“Let’s see…” Kuro turned his head. Keith could guess Kuro was looking at Shiro, but there was no way he was going to raise his head from the bedsheets. 

“Could drag you down to the showers, pin you against the wall there…” Kuro’s hands wandered, caressing over the flesh of his ass. Keith pressed his face more firmly into the bed, wondering if he could force himself to pass out. “In the lions… all spread out on the chair of oh, Red or Black –he’s thought about both at times….”

Kuro’s finger slowly circled his entrance and Keith clenched, hard. 

“Maybe in the Castle’s pool, all slow and gentle in the water under the stars…. Or pinned over a table in the library, trying desperately to keep quiet…?” Kuro stroked in gentle circles and lines, apparently enjoying the way Keith couldn’t help but keep trying to tense away from the caress. “Or should I go back further? To thoughts he had even at the Garrison? Little one, he has such a filthy mind, you really have no idea how badly he’s wanted this, how much he thinks he’s won by denying himself… by denying you.”

Keith let out a frustrated noise at that, furious on Shiro’s behalf, not wanting to hear these ideas; too similar to ones that his own brain had conjured up over the lonely nights. He didn’t want to hear Shiro’s inner thoughts laid bare, not like this. It was more exposing than Kuro’s actions. He definitely couldn’t look up. 

“Seems almost anti-climatic to do it here, like this… not when he’s wanted this for so long.” Kuro mused. 

“Then don’t,” Keith managed to lift up his head to fire the retort back. 

“How else will he learn?” Kuro leaned his body weight forward again. Keith clenched as he felt the heavy press of a finger against his entrance. Slick with lube.All of Keith’s efforts couldn’t keep it from slipping inside him. Keith panted through the stretch, gritting his teeth and shoving his face into the pillow. 

“No noises?” 

Keith could practically hear the pout in Kuro’s voice. Well. If staying quiet could be a victory….

“You should hear him, Shiro. He gets loud. Louder than you’ve guessed in your fantasies…” Kuro laughed. “He makes the most beautiful sounds. I’ll show you. I promise.” 

Ice gripped his heart when Keith realized that Kuro was easily in a position to make good on that promise. Keith felt Kuro’s finger drag slowly in and out, kneading against his sensitive flesh. He didn’t breathe as Kuro added another without mercy, starting to stretch him in earnest. 

How many times had they done something like this in the past few days? Quick moments of passion stolen in storage rooms, lazy nights of exploration? Every memory he’d made, expecting to treasure, quickly soured on his tongue as he felt the same movements, the same lover who’d quickly mapped out his body’s responses.

Everything was being used against him. 

Despite it all, despite the terrible situation, despite the fact that there wasn’t _anything_ sexy about this, Keith remained hard. 

“You would have loved finding out what he loves…” Kuro mocked Shiro. “But let me show you instead. You just sit pretty over there.”

Keith darted a quick glance over to where Shiro was struggling, lifting his head to see over his arm. 

Kuro took advantage of Keith’s slightly raised head. 

“Should I let you out, Shiro? Would you play _nice_?” Kuro pushed his fingers into Keith’s mouth as he talked. Keith bit at the metal, making a strangled sound as they pushed back along his tongue. He tried to force them out of his mouth. “Maybe he’d like both of us at once?” Kuro’s clawed fingers thrust against his tongue, synchronized with the more human-like ones buried in him far lower and giving Keith a pretty good idea of where Kuro’s mind was at. 

Keith hated the fact that even at that moment, the idea made him weak. 

Kuro laughed, drawing his metallic fingers out and along Keith’s lower lip, mimicking the tracing the movement with the fingers still buried inside Keith. “I think that was a yes from this one,” he hit Keith’s ass with his saliva-slicked hand and Keith jumped.

“You should feel him, Shiro. Almost clenched as much being spanked as from the thought of _both_ of us…”

If he survived this he could never look Shiro in the eyes again. Keith buried his head back in the safety of the mattress, willing himself to believe this was all a nightmare. 

Kuro hooked his fingers and Keith’s toes curled as warmth flooded through his lower spine. Pleasure gathered, heavy and still around his head, thick like the air before a thunderstorm. Keith whimpered as Kuro’s pressed harder, stroking softly.

“Not good enough…” Kuro tsked again. “I don’t think he can hear you.”

Kuro’s fingers withdrew and for a painful moment Keith’s body rebelled, hips lifting upwards, chasing the sensation even as his mind screamed. 

“See how he wants it?” Kuro sounded proud. Keith let his hips collapse to the bed, sure that his ears were bright red with how hot they were. “He’s so ready for me, even though he’s fighting this so hard.” 

There were rhythmic sounds, shifting movements over his legs. Keith could only imagine Kuro stroking himself. “Probably still trying to think that it’s you…” Kuro’s voice was going slightly more ragged, losing its steady low cadence as he continued to jerk off over Keith. 

“Whose name is in your head, little one?” Kuro thrust low, grinding his cock into the cleft of Keith’s ass. “Who are you thinking of, hmm?” 

He paused, waiting for a reply that Keith refused to give. 

Kuro grabbed hold of Keith, spreading his cheeks with mismatched hands. Keith could feel the brush of thumbs across the edge of his hole, still slick with lube. Keith tensed. 

“Mine,” Kuro’s low voice was lazy with satisfaction. He held still, waiting until the anticipation and dread and exposure itched under Keith’s skin. Keith squirmed under Kuro’s hands. Kuro’s hands flexed, pressing him heavily into the bed, then seemed to reconsider. His forceful hands curled around Keith’s hips, one grabbing over his hip bone and pulling him up from the bed. The other wrapped loosely around Keith’s throbbing erection. 

Keith left his head buried in his arms. Kuro’s hips rocked gently against his own. Keith gathered his knees under him, trying to relieve some of the pressure, and Kuro let go of his hip. The hand palming lazily over his cock was enough to keep him in place. It still felt so good….

Kuro knew his body. Knew how the varied strokes teased Keith, didn’t give him enough of anything he wanted. Keith was still vaguely aware that Shiro was right there, watching everything…. The feeling of betrayal was bright underneath the pleasure, guilt spilling over into the embarrassment. _I’m sorry,_ Keith thought as his breathing became more broken, irregular and panted into the quiet room. 

Kuro teased along his head, gripping hard and fast for a few thrusts. Enough to get Keith’s hips moving involuntarily. Enough to pull desperate, needy, embarrassed noises from Keith’s throat. 

There was a heavy pressure against his sphincter. Keith edged forward, pushing himself firmly into Kuro’s hand. The tip of Kuro’s cock pushed against his entrance, chasing his hips forward as he jerked away again. The pressure against him seemed to expand to almost a painful edge, and Keith realized that this was probably why Kuro had stopped prepping at two fingers. 

“Ah…!” Keith finally broke and moaned loudly as Kuro pushed inwards. The length seeming to go on forever as Kuro took his time, moving slowly, millimetre by excruciating millimetre. Keith’s knees stuttered out along the mattress, and Kuro’s hand returned to his hip to hold him up. His other hand didn’t stop stroking, switching to a faster rhythm, the pressure electric and perfect and just what Keith would have wanted in any other situation but this. 

It was overwhelming. Keith knew that Kuro had won, Keith couldn’t stop the noises he was making, although he pushed his face into the mattress and gasped for air between the little whimpers and moans. Kuro flexed, pulling out just as slowly as he pushed in, not stopping. Keith tried to get his body to accept it but his muscles fluttered uneasily in response to the intrusion, a constant play of tension and relaxation as he squirmed. 

It was good. Keith _hated_ that Kuro could still make it feel so good. Kuro’s fist around Keith’s cock kept him pinned on the edge of pleasure and pain until Keith relaxed. The sounds of Keith’s uneven, heavy breathing filled the room.

Kuro knew him far too well, after this short of a time. 

Keith tried to remember to breathe as Kuro started moving, starting the shallow thrusts that he knew drove Keith crazy at this angle. He brought their bodies close together, pinning their hips nearly in place as he moved gently. It would have been easier to handle being wildly fucked into the mattress. This sort of tenderness would be Keith’s undoing, too quickly, even here. Even now. Every short thrust of Kuro’s drove a new sound from Keith into the mattress, the keening getting higher and faster as Kuro chased his release. 

Keith drew in on his arms, letting the pain in his wrists feed into the sensation of Kuro behind him. He tensed his shoulders, his body stiffening as Kuro drove him towards release.

“Ah!” Keith clenched his toes, body struggling to hang on as he edged towards orgasm. He could almost see it shine behind his eyes, and then, Kuro’s pacing changed, diverting it too easily. 

Kuro drew back to play with Keith’s rim, gently stroking it with his fingers as he thrust with a slow shallow rhythm. He teased the stretched, sensitive flesh, and Keith ground back into the sensation, trying to remember that he should be ashamed of this, that he should hate this, when his body was _singing_ and all he wanted was for this to continue. 

Of course it was Kuro’s words - Kuro’s filthy words - that pulled him away from the sensations. 

“Give me a name and I’ll let you finish. Say my name, and make him hurt. Say _his_ name and make him hurt… Your choice.”

The small moans and broken keens being pulled from his body were unbearable. Keith could feel the pitch increasing, even if he couldn’t stop them. He felt like he was going to break teeth from trying to keep them inside. 

Kuro grabbed a fistful of hair, yanking Keith’s body back. 

“Who?” Kuro demanded, hand circling Keith’s cock.

Keith panted desperately for a few moments, arching his body further towards Kuro’s touch. The pain of his hair being shot across the crossed wires in his head, launching him towards the brink of orgasm again.

He ground his teeth, stubborn and truthful. “It’s always been Shiro,” he gasped out. 

Kuro bit the lobe of his ear as his hand wrapped around Keith’s cock. “Yet there he is, and here I am….” Kuro crooned triumphantly. “Shame, that.”

Keith squeezed his eyes shut, letting himself get lost in the wet slide of Kuro’s hand over his cock. He was going to come. The pressure building at the base of his spine tightened every muscle in his body. His abs fluttered and he pulled against the ripped fabric tethering his hands. It was too much. 

Kuro’s thumb pressed heavily against the tip of his cock, and he felt his balls draw up. With the caress of Kuro’s fingers across the sensitive underside of his tip and the heat inside of him welled up and out, pushing him over that orgasmic cliff, crashing violently into pleasure.

Keith came _hard_ spilling over Kuro’s hand, across the sheets. Every muscle in his core pulsed frantically as he rode out the unwanted pleasure, teeth tight in his own lip to keep from yelling. He felt Kuro in him as he rode out the waves of his orgasm, clenching around the Kuro with every pulse of his own. 

He struggled to catch his breath as his heart pounded, attempting to break free from his chest. Kuro pushed him down into the evidence of his own release, wet sheets pressed up beneath his chest and body. 

Kuro’s movements became erratic, rough above him. Keith was oversensitive but had no strength in his legs to move, too exhausted to struggle any more against his bonds. The world around him felt dim and hazy and surreal. 

With a few short, sharp jerks, Kuro pulled out, leaving Keith feeling empty in yet another way. He made another noise of loss, hating the sensation. Hating the cause of the sensation. 

A part of him recognized the sounds above him of Kuro quietly riding out his own release, just a small hitch of breath before warmth splattered messily across Keith’s back.

Marking him. 

The liquid ran in slippery trails across his muscles as Keith cringed. The weight on the bed shifted quickly. Keith left his face buried in his arms, unwilling to face anyone after this. 

...

A flurry of movement and sudden glow of violet light made him change his mind.


End file.
